Near Touch
by AKA DD
Summary: It's about the simple intimacy of the near-touch." It didn’t matter, because whatever it was, in that moment, Elena Gilbert completely forgot about Stefan Salvatore. Inspired by the dance scene in Miss Mystic Falls. SPOILER ALERT!


DISCLAIMER: Vampire Diaries is not mine.

A/N: First time dabbling in the Vampire Diaries. Just loved the scene from Miss Mystic Falls. Just love Damon, period. SPOILERS for Miss Mystic Falls.

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NEAR TOUCH

She was in _trouble_.

Maybe it was because everyone was watching them. Or maybe it was because _he_ was looking at her. Or maybe it was because she suddenly realized that she was probably staring into a pair of the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

It didn't matter, because whatever it was, in that moment, Elena Gilbert completely forgot about Stefan Salvatore.

It was like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't hear, she couldn't see, couldn't even _think_ about anyone else but _him_.

Her mouth went dry as they stood staring at each other. She couldn't pry her eyes away from his even as she heard the first strains of the music begin.

The dance started with their right hands a hair's breadth from touching as they spun slowly. Elena could feel the surprising heat that radiated from his palm. It filtered through her hand, down her arm, all the way through her body. She imagined it was why her knees suddenly felt weak, and her heart seemed to be beating faster than it should.

And, _oh God_, the way he looked at her.

Had she ever noticed how utterly blue his eyes were? They looked at her as if there was a light shining from behind them. They called her into their depths and she felt like she wouldn't mind falling into them forever.

"_Flirt with your eyes,"_

Mrs. Lockwood's voice filtered through her thoughts. She hadn't understood what it had meant earlier in the week during rehearsals. But there was no way she could mistake the look in Damon's eyes.

He looked at her like she was his universe.

Like she was everything he ever wanted.

Elena couldn't look away. She could barely contain herself from deftly moving her fingertips to touch his hand.

They switched hands and spun the other way. Elena suddenly understood what desire was. It was in the way your fingers longed to reach out and just touch the other person's hand. It was the way her body thrummed with the music, with an inner desire to be closer and closer still to Damon. It was in the way she wanted to simply sink into him.

And it was in the way he looked at her.

This time they lifted both their hands towards each other and they were face to face. The air between them felt electric. It felt forbidden. It felt like the whole world had simply dropped away.

_It's about the simple intimacy of the near-touch._

Again, Elena finally understood exactly what Mrs. Lockwood meant. How could _almost_ touching someone send little arcs of electricity flitting just beneath the surface of her skin? How could being so close, but not close _enough,_ make the world feel like all the air had been sucked away and the only way to survive was to touch him?

She almost swayed closer, their hands almost touched; she almost closed her eyes in the sheer agony of need. Almost touching Damon was like almost breathing. It was like almost living. It was like being cold and almost feeling the heat of a fire.

She wanted him to touch her. So bad.

And he did.

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him—closer than what the dance called for—but not nearly close enough for Elena. Her hand slipped into his and he clasped his fingers around hers. He held her like he would never let go. He held her like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

It was almost love.

She saw his eyes flicker as if he had read her mind. She saw the slight quirk of his lips as if he just realized that she was willingly in his arms, a small smile on her face, her eyes open to her soul.

To Elena, being in Damon's arms, it felt almost like belonging.

They spun on the floor and the colors around them were a blur. All she saw were intent clear blue eyes that never left her. All she felt was the warmth that radiated from the points of contact. His hand entwined with hers, the other resting lightly over the exposed skin on her back.

It felt like he had branded her with the heat of his touch.

They danced and Elena lost herself in it. She had never felt lighter. She forgot everything—the secrets, the sadness, the guilt, the worry—she was just a girl dancing with a boy.

But the song ended and Damon stepped away, almost abruptly. Cool air replaced the warmth between them and it hit Elena like a rude awakening. The sounds of laughter, of the audience clapping reminded her of exactly where she was, of _who_ she was.

And it reminded her of Stefan.

In that moment, she looked away. Her heart was racing, terrified of what a single dance could do. Terrified that she had, for those few moments, forgotten that Stefan existed.

But most of all, she was terrified that she had wanted Damon's touch.

_All my agony fades away, when you hold me in your embrace…_ The song teased through her as she turned away and smiled for the audience.

"If you ask me, near-touch is overrated," Stefan had said at rehearsals.

If you asked her, near-touch was like opening Pandora's box. It was trouble.

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THE END.


End file.
